


Nothing Personal

by gokkyun



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Graphic Description, M/M, More tags to follow, Slow Burn, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2018-12-07 01:46:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11613372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gokkyun/pseuds/gokkyun
Summary: Something sinister haunts the province of Zhyun, disturbing not just its order and balance but all of Ionia with torn bodies and seemingly never-ending bloodlust.It's the Kinkou Order's master who has burdened himself and his two best apprentices with the mission of restoring the lost balance by finding the so called Golden Demon responsible for countless tragedies.But is the Golden Demon truly a demon or is its true nature more intriguing than any of the three could fathom?





	1. Overture

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> How do I begin? Well, first of all I love the number four and I love to play ADC (I don't). When Jhin came out I was very intrigued with him from the start. He's become my most played champion and his connection to Zed (who was, btw, my first champion) made it hard to resist thinking about ...them. And since I also happen to have a thing for "rivalmances", my head has been screaming at me for a rather long time to write down this flood of headcanons. So, thanks Riot for 10 minute queues so I can write on this. 
> 
> Anyways, I'm uploading this so I stop changing it and ... why not.  
> Warnings apply for rather graphic depictions of violence, corpses, mutilation, especially in later chapters. Sexual content as well since, ha ha, I am me. 
> 
> I will continue this story whenever I find the time and motivation, so yeah. I would really appreciate feedback and comments & kudos! And now, enjoy.

The island nation of Ionia is known for its unspoiled beauty, secluded from the rest of Valoran and yet to be harmed by Noxus' rampage throughout the main continent. Placid rivers and tall mountains are spread throughout the with forests patched landscape. One would think that tranquility, peace and balance is all around the with magic infused land but that's not the case. 

A good example for this is a tiny farmstead that lays along the streets of the southern mountains of Ionia and in the province of Zhyun. The early yet grimly night covers said farmstead in silence. An uncomfortable silence that wasn't there until a couple of heartbeats away. Fast and unsteady heartbeats of many people, that have now faded away and come down to the excited heartbeats of a single man, the only man still alive, robes covered in blood, slender fingers twitching around the handles of the blades that his deceased father passed down to him. 

He moves his arm, elegantly so, as he watches the blood-stained metal slice through the pale skin of a young woman. Her long silenced screams were music to his ears but the thing he enjoys even more is what he's about to do with her face and body. His canvas. 

The blades in the man's hands keep moving swiftly but with precision, almost like a brush, as he cuts her body apart and he can't help but smile at his creation. A slow but vile little upturn of his mouth. The already stained wooden floor of the room fills with blood, seeps into its cracks. It is a nightmare coming to life for most but to the alleged artist it is pure beauty, a twist in his mind that makes him truly come to life in this carnage created by him and him alone. 

Death rides on his shoulders as he moves to his next victim like in a trance. His half-lidded eyes fall upon a dead man's sharp and symmetrical features, twisted in agony and fear, a pretty sight were it not for the dull overall design. It reminds the artist of his own face, a grim frown replacing the curl of his lips. 

He cannot make his own face more interesting.

But he would - instead - do it with this man's face.


	2. Twisted

The city that is considered the capital of the Zhyun region and that connects its major trading streets and traveling routes is one of the oldest settlements in Ionia. A brightly decorated and well-established town, Xuhua harbors all sorts of different people. While it is only a medium-sized city by mainland standards, it's the fourth biggest city Ionia has to offer and therefore provides enough anonymity for one Khada Jhin.

A fairly nice apartment in the city's middle-class district is Jhin's haven, bought from the money his parents left him. It's the place where he spends his time when he isn't working for Zhyun's traveling theaters or opera houses. Not many people know he owns a gem such as this and even less would bother him in his own house during the day, just like no one would notice that he uses the darkest hours for something no one would ever understand. 

Much to Jhin's disapproval, the present day appears to be a little more complicated than usual though. He's just returned from his recent work-related travels, although not by choice. A series of grotesque and cold-blooded murders on a farmstead were reported in the morning hours, not far away from the city. The bloodbath was discovered by the traveling theater Jhin is currently working for not even three hours ago - a morbid display of corpses, some so horribly disfigured that it wasn't even certain at first if they were once human. Demon hunters were called during the misty morning but even they were at a loss for words and theories whether the attack was that of a beast or a human. Two words fell and have since then spread through the city as if on wings. 

Golden Demon. 

The name, or rather title, makes Jhin chuckle as he sits in his apartment, wiping over the swords inherited from his father. He's not sure why these fools chose this name for the person, the creature he becomes when he performs but it pleases him, as it somewhat resembles the name he's chosen to live under a few years back. 

Khada Jhin.

Golden Excellence.

With an absent smile he wipes over both of the aforementioned swords four times. They're his father's heritage, but he could not care less about his fact - he only cares about the fact that these are his tools, his brushes. They need to be clean, they need to be perfect and this would only be the case if he wiped over them four times. When he's done, Jhin puts the swords back on the wooden display stand where they wait patiently until his next performance. 

And although he loves creating his art with the swords, he considers the option of finding other brushes to work with, disposable ones. Hiding the swords during his travels with different theaters has proven to be quite the hassle. While they're easily stashed in his long suitcase and underneath his clothes, there is always a certain risk of guards showing up and demanding a search. It almost happened today after Jhin's fellow workers found the corpses - or what was left of them. 

After all, the swords are supposed to be nothing but decoration, mementos of the father he's lost. At least that's what he tells the few people that dare disturb him in the alleged privacy of his home. None of these peasants wasting Jhin's time need to know that he does not care a fig for the sentimental worth the swords hold and that the story about how they were once his father's is, while true, nothing more than a convenient alibi to explain why a mere stagehand possesses swords as fine as these. 

Without wasting another thought on his father or on the swords, Jhin wordlessly moves over to the cup of tea that he previously prepared for himself as a reward. He inhales the pleasant scent and inadvertently lets his mind travel back to last night's performance. A frown settles on his face, as it was a good show but by no means perfect. It never is. The fact that it were members of the traveling theater he's currently working for who found his handiwork also proved to be quite the inconvenience.

Jhin got dragged back to gaze upon his own art when it was found in the morning hours and while he's learned to be quite the actor, it was hard to act repelled by the wonderful images he's created. 

Thinking back to the horrified faces of the other onlookers makes him chuckle before he finally takes the first sip of the lightly steaming tea. The theater wanted to perform in Xuhua and then continue their travels but due to the apparent trauma some of the main performers have suffered from, anything of that kind has been postponed. 

This fact makes the inconvenience turn into a convenience as Jhin has been granted two weeks away from his day time work which gives him more time to plan his performances before he travels through the Zhyun region once more. 

Golden Excellence by day. 

Golden Demon by night. 

A knock on the door forces Jhin out of his thoughts, a frown immediately and unconsciously settling on his face. People rarely seek him out because of his polite yet reserved demeanor, so it should not bother him when they do for once. And yet the overwhelming feeling of annoyance prickles in his fingertips as he gets up and reaches for the door. 

Right before said door would completely open, Jhin's expression changes - eyebrows knitted in worry, mouth a flat line. As expected, a guardsman was standing there, gazing upon the alleged mask Jhin has just put on. "Oh," he says, as if surprised. "I did not expect the guard on my doorstep that soon. How may I help you?" 

It's not hard to notice the guard's nervousness, barely finding the candor to speak up. "I was told by our captain that you were one of the theater folks that - that were at the murder scene the ... demon caused. The Golden Demon, that is. It is my duty to fetch and accompany you to bear witness." 

Trying not to do the gesture in an overly dramatic way, Jhin presses the palm of his hand against his mouth, as if expressing disgust. "Is that really necessary? Just thinking about it ... makes me feel rather nauseous." And with nauseous he tries to say that he'd rather not have any kind of connection between himself and the murders, not even as a simple witness. Any contact with the authorities is dangerous enough already, but to talk about his art in a derogatory way since no one understands his genius is something he would very much prefer to avoid.

"I understand your distaste, but I'm afraid I have to insist," the guard continues, his voice firmer than before. "Gathering information about the demon and its cruel deeds has been declared an utmost priority by the council."

Another worrisome factor to calculate. But right here, right now, Jhin needs to be an obedient Ionian puppet so he simply gives a courteous nod as he speaks, "Very well. Lead the way."


	3. Necessities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What to do when you're too scared to play your Dia 3 promos? Upload fanfiction, obviously.
> 
> Contents of this chapter: Zed being annoyed and gay.  
> Warnings for this chapter: Death. A lot of it. Heavy corpse mutilation. Quite a bit of it.  
> Also: thanks for the kudos & stuff so far!

Death comes in many forms and while it is not a subject many are comfortable with, it is an important part of the world's overall balance. It therefore is something the members of the Kinkou Order are frequently confronted with should they choose to join the ancient clan. 

A young pupil of the order's master carrying the name Zed has seen a lot of death in his short life. Death by his own blade less so than death caused by demons, spirits, imps and the like. These creatures are known to slip into the physical world, especially in Ionia, and Zed has seen their handiwork before, ranging from deserted villages to sunken ships. And yet all of the incidents Zed has witnessed so far have not prepared him for the morbid scenes the Golden Demon leaves behind. 

For the last two and a half years, Zed, Shen and their famous Master Kusho have been tracking the apparent demon's bloody steps. Their disguise to not arise the attention of just about anyone is simple but seemingly effective - a traveling merchant and his sons. In those past years, Zed has, unfortunately, laid his eyes upon a lot of the demon's handiwork and yet he still cannot fully grasp the level of violence put on display. But then again, this isn't violence anymore. It's torture and mutilation of a degree that simply can't be human. 

The latest known murders happened in a farmstead not far away from Zhyun's capital called Xuhua. Surprisingly enough the outside of the house looks as normal and unharmed as it could. As soon as Kusho, Zed and Shen step into it, the by now all too familiar stench of carnage hits them. The warm summer's humidity intensifies the smell, enough so that Shen can't help but to press his hand in front of both his mouth and nose - and while Zed would very much like to do the same, he wants to show strength and resilience in front of his master's watchful eyes. Embarrassingly enough, both Shen and Zed could not hold the contents of their stomachs during their first encounters with murders as inhumane as these. Zed frowns at the thought, at his weakness. 

A coppery and overwhelming odor penetrates Zed's nose, dense, vile and, in a way, sickeningly sweet. Humans are supposed to be repulsed by the smell for biological reasons but somehow Zed finds himself minding it less and less. Maybe he's grown accustomed to the smell, something he most definitely can't say about the things he's about to see, the images of past scenes haunting his thoughts and dreams.

"Follow me please," a guard says, his voice somber. Kusho gives him an affirming nod as he leads the group of three further into the house. A small unit dealing with the demon is the only part of Ionia's and specifically Zhyun's guardsmen that know of the three ninjas and their disguise to apprehend the demon. It's thanks to them that Kusho and company are able to take a closer look at the crime scenes. 

Unfortunately, it is something that Zed would like to skip for the most part.

He's presented to a large and old-fashioned dining room, a low table at its end, its sitting cushions scattered all over the floor. The walls are painted with blood and it has soaked the worn-out wooden floor. Bloody hand prints are on the desk and the sliding door, sure signs of the victims being kept alive. It's unsure whether it was for the demon's amusement - seeing his prey struggle for their lives - or if it was carelessness - which is unlikely. 

A large pool of blood and the main source of the stench, however, is found in the front of the room. Severed legs and arms were dumped into a square pit in the floor, a sunken hearth. Usually a serene place for people and especially families, this usage of it is nothing but vile and disgusting. 

Zed can't help but to frown. Being an orphan and still longing for the recognition from his master and father figure, he doesn't understand much about what a place like this means to a family. And yet his gut twists at the several limbs slowly but surely rotting there, ranging from thick to thin, from long to small - small enough to be a child's. Shaking his head, he turns towards the guard. "Have you found the bodies these ... belonged to?"

A swift nod follows. "Yes, they were all here. We moved them into another room as they reeked terribly. Their view and count also made it harder to work in here than it already is."

Unable to keep a disapproving huff concealed, Zed crosses his arms. The guard is about to open his mouth again when Kusho puts his hand on Zed's shoulder, his grasp firm - too firm. "Excuse my pupil, his manners still seem to lack from years of solitude in our temple," Kusho interrupts. "I'm sure his intention was to ask if he could take a look at the bodies. Is that not correct, Zed?"

"Something like that," Zed grunts under his breath, slowly feeling his shoulder bruise as the master's grip tightens further. "Eh, I mean, yes, master." 

A confused look settles onto the guard's face but he waves for Zed to follow him, who is freed from Kusho's _guiding hand_ for now. The master returns to Shen who is still inspecting the room while Zed enters a close by bedroom, fairly large. About ten corpses lie on the ground, sheets that were once white but are now drenched in dried blood above and below them. 

"All of them are missing their four limbs, even the two children," the guard says, his voice quiet as he kneels down in front of the torsos. "Except for this one." He points at a corpse that seems to be intact, at least under the sheet. "I'm not sure why the demon did this to him or if his fate was so much better though." 

The guard's hand shakes a little as he unveils the dead body. Guessing from his flat chest Zed identifies the corpse as male, as his face isn't in any position to give him that information. There are no eyes left and the skin on his face has been completely torn off. He is - was - bald, so the rotting flesh stands in stark contrast to the pale and faded skin still remaining on the backside of the victim's head. "Anything else unusual on him that's been added? Or missing? The demon has left behind people with genitals missing before. Toes or fingers, too."

"Won't be much use for this fella anymore, but his penis is still there. All of his hands, feet and respective parts belonging there, too. Feel free to take a look. I bet he won't mind." 

Zed scoffs at the misplaced attempt of humor but kneels down anyway. Thankful to be clad in his Kinkou outfit that provides him with gloves, he lifts the man's head carefully. _Nothing left, nothing right,_ Zed focuses his thoughts and mind. "Ah there," he says out loud, unintentionally.

"Hm?"

"This," he says, pointing at a four thin lines, carved into the backside of the man's head with what was either a thin knife or sharp claws should the demon possess those. "We have not quite figured out what it means, but the demon has the habit of carving these lines into some of its victims. Could be its claws, could be a signature, we don't know. Not yet." 

"Well, I wish you people good luck finding it out."

 

* * *

 

Zed takes a deep breath, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Your mood whenever we do this is becoming quite unbearable," he hears Shen say from next to him. 

"Don't tell me you're enjoying one bit of this," Zed replies, rolling his eyes before glancing at Shen sideways. The other's mouth forms a soft smile in return. 

"I do. At least it is more pleasant than examining corpses. Or what is left of them."

"Examining these people seems very similar to me. Everyone has a death stare plastered on their face."

Shen can't help but to chuckle at that while softly shaking his head all the same. It makes Zed feel like he's victorious over his alleged brother for once. After all, that's what they've been to the public in the past years. Brothers. And after all they're in public now, at the guard station in Xuhua, dressed in their disguises. 

They're posing here as witnesses for a crime that does not exist. With a more or less keen eye they observe the real witnesses of the demon's most recent atrocity to eventually visit some of them separately - and in their merchant disguise, of course. This procedure did not help them a lot so far, though the hope to find connections to the murders never quite fades. 

Besides for the black and wide pants similar to the ones him and Shen wear to their Kinkou robes, Zed can't find any comfort in their clothes. Shen is dressed in a traditional blue and sleeveless top, quite obviously relaxed and not minding the casualness. Zed on the other hand has short sleeves and buttons to the side, colors in red and black. It leaves him on edge that the clothes provide no space for hidden weapons whatsoever, a security he's missing - especially with a demon on the prowl. 

Zed's posture changes to something less unwelcoming and more polite when Master Kusho and therefore his apparent father approaches the young ninjas from the other side of the room. "Have you two found anything suspicious or worthwhile?" Kusho asks and both Shen and Zed look at each other before shrugging. A sigh leaves Kusho's lips. "I know that the both of you, especially Zed, tire of this charade that's been going on for more than two years now but we'll have to question the witnesses once again. In the subtle way a nosy merchant would, naturally." 

"I do not mind, rather the opposite," Shen explains, voice just above audible so the other people in the fairly large guard station can't hear him. "It helps me judge people and whether they speak the truth or not. An important lesson." 

Zed feels the urge to scoff at Shen's words but refrains from doing so as Kusho's eyes are on him, so he simply nods with agreement. "Very well," Kusho says, his hand stroking over his long beard. Zed hasn't noticed it before, but the master's famous red mane and beard show single strands of white hair. The man is old, but not that old. Before Zed's mind can wander off any further, Kusho speaks up once more. "I will get the list of witnesses and their addresses, or where to find them since some of these are traveling artists." 

With that Kusho leaves the two young men to themselves, disappearing into a backroom of the station. Almost immediately, Zed is back to having his arms crossed in front of his chest. More and more people have come and gone over time, some brought here for questioning regarding the Golden Demon, some for petty crimes such as pickpocket, some to report much different problems. The station is fairly loud even with Shen - for once - silently observing and not bothering his _brother_ with clever remarks. And for a second there, Zed allows himself to close his tired eyes. 

When his eyes open back up they trail over to the station's entrance, just in time to gaze upon a small guard accompanied by a much taller man. The guard is of no interest to Zed, but the man is. Not even caring about why he's here or if he even has to do with the demon, but his appearance is striking to say the least. 

His composure is as straight as it gets, complimenting his towering height. His long arms are behind his back, giving him an oddly large amount of grace and confidence. The upper half of his body is clad in a traditional and close-fitting sleeveless top in cream color, completed with a mandarin collar and golden buttons down the middle. Light swirls are embroidered in the cloth, but Zed is unsure whether they depict clouds or a flower's petals. Whatever it is, the cream top's color stands in stark contrast to the man's skin that has clearly been kissed by the sun on several occasions, yet not overly so.

The further the guard and his intriguing company step into the station, the harder it is for Zed to avert his gaze. Despite the stranger's height, he isn't intimidating at all. Slim shoulders and slender hips merge into thin and long legs. Legs dressed in black and tight pants with semicircles on them, legs that actually take up the majority of the man's slim form and - admittedly - meager physique. 

Finally, Zed is able to clearly see the man's face. Just like his body it's long and slender, beautifully cut and accompanied by chestnut-colored hair atop of it, cut short and carefully combed to one side. The man's face makes Zed unconsciously bite down on his lower lip. His cheekbones are high and while his eyes aren't big in size, they have something unique as the outer corner of the eyes is just slightly higher than the inner one. And suddenly those eyes are onto Zed, an icy glow in them while thin and fine eyebrows are turned downwards with irritation, thin lips narrowed. 

Before Zed can get a grasp onto what just happened, the man is out of his line of sight and a sharp elbow digs into his upper arm. "We are supposed to be subtle with our observations, not stare a hole into other people," Shen hisses from the side. 

Zed turns to Shen, eyes wide and mind confused. "I-I was staring?" He can't remember the last time he spaced out like this. 

"Why do you think that lanky man just gave you a death glare?"

"I mean," Zed starts, biting down on his lower lip once more, looking for words. Different remarks about the man's incredibly long legs or his remarkably symmetrical face rest on Zed's tongue - but he simply shakes his head. This isn't something his _brother_ or just about anyone should hear. "I guess I'm tired."


	4. Obsession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!  
> ... it's been almost a year that I've written on this. Unfortunately life and a huge writer's block were hating on me and yadda yadda.  
> Either way, I've finally gotten back into writing and of course couldn't let my gays not marry. And with these two I mean kill each other. I'll try to upload a chapter every few weeks.  
> Enjoy the fourth chapter now that, of course, revolves around Jhin. Thanks for sticking around!

To Khada Jhin, anger - especially his own - is something powerful yet very tiresome and therefore best sealed away. And so he does seal it away, behind the mask he wears every day. Namely his face. A feigned smile here, a soft curl of his lips there. As his face shifts with these false expressions of his pretentious nature, it lures people in.

And while some of the folks that walk on this planet with him have told Jhin that his face is simply alluring, he chooses not to believe their sugar-coated lies. After all, his cheek bones are too chiseled and high, his straight edged nose too sharp - whatever. He's too tired to list all of the imperfections eating at his self-consciousness. Not to mention that the aspect of his face that bothers him the most is the fact that it's almost perfectly symmetrical. 

Symmetry is, in most people's eyes, perfection. To Jhin it is boring and overrated and simply irritating, especially for an artist such as he is. The looks both his face and gangly body elicit are few in a city as big as Xuhua. But whenever he feels eyes just following him he finds it hard to let his anger stay locked away. And Jhin did not expect to get stared at in a guard station of all places, a stranger's eyes glued to him. 

Jhin feels the irritation surge through his body. His hand mindlessly brushes over the well-kept but small patch of beard on his chin. He hates this nagging feeling that will not leave him until his next performance, until he can not make himself more beautiful but at least other people. The fact that he's stuck in a room with a guard asking him absurd questions about last night and the apparent demon's murders doesn't help his anxiety one bit. 

"Ah and here we are. Last question but probably the most important one - may I ask where you were and what you did last night?" the guard across of Jhin asks. They're in a small interrogation room, seated at an even smaller table. The guard's note pad and two files are the only things resting on it.

Jhin shifts on the uncomfortable chair and internally groans. One wrong word could mean his demise but then again these guards don't have a single clue about who or even what the so called Golden Demon is. His arms cross in front of his chest. "I was in my sleeping booth at the theater's resting spot. If no one has told you yet, every semi-important member of the theater has their own booth built into carriages. I went to rest quite early since the theater was supposed to have a performance in Xuhua tomorrow and I, as a leading stagehand, would have to do the most work a day before. So obviously I needed sleep."

The guard seems pleased enough with the answer, giving a couple of small nods as he writes down Jhin's answer. It relieves Jhin, for now. "Was there anyone with you that could confirm this?" 

A frown settles on Jhin's face for a second there. Arms still crossed, his fingernails dig into the tender flesh of his bicep. _There's no reason to get worked up over this, this puppet is simply asking me mandatory questions_ , he says to himself. _Calm down._

"Our sleeping booths are meant for one person and are lockable," Jhin slowly explains then, voice as monotone as possible. "Unless someone has crept into my booth while I was asleep, which I would find highly alarming, no, I do not have anyone to confirm this."

A deep sigh leaves the guard and he drops his pencil. His now free hand presses against his forehead and all Jhin notices is how unusually wide it is. It fits the overall image of the small man's rugged and aged features, though it would take a lot of Jhin's handiwork to make a beauty out of this one.

But now is not the time and especially not the place to think of his art. "Is there anything wrong with what I have said?" Jhin asks. Not because he cares for the guard's opinion or for the helpfulness of his statements but to pry information about the demon, namely himself, out of the man. 

The guard immediately straightens up. "Ah, no. It's not your statements that are bothersome. You were very helpful." 

Jhin's eyes narrow and he has to suppress a grin. His mind sees an opening, a weakness in this man's heart and mind that he can exploit easily with a few sugar-coated words. "Your fellow guardsmen have done a fine job securing the ... _scene_ ... as far as I could tell," he says, leaning onto the table to seem more relaxed and open. "Quick to respond to our ... disturbing findings, too. And it is hardly your fault that a farmstead out in the wild got attacked. Whatever it is out there, I am certain you will take care of it, won't you?" 

"That is what we hope to do," the guard says but averts his gaze. "But no one knows what or whom we are even looking for. Except for the crime scenes that the demon obviously wants to be found, there is not a single clue to hold onto." With keen eyes Jhin watches as the guard's thick and hairy fingers rub one of his brown eyes. "Not even some rumored specialists seem to know how to handle this situation." 

"Specialists?" Jhin bursts out and almost sits up straight in his chair. 

That unfortunately brings the guard back out of his seeming trance of mumbled words. "Forget what I said," he waves off with a smile so badly feigned it almost hurts Jhin to just look at. "Thank you again for your cooperation. Now if you would be so kind to leave the room? Other witnesses are waiting." 

"Of course." Without avail Jhin gets up, bowing his head politely before leaving the room. He acts calm but he's anything but. The urge to slap himself overcomes him as the sudden panic that spread through his body when he heard the word _specialists_ might have cost him valuable information. 

A deep breath and Jhin gathers his thoughts. He needs to stay composed and focused, especially here. There are quite a few people and orders spread throughout Ionia that would qualify to investigate the case of the Golden Demon. After all Ionia is the country that is known to be both blessed and haunted by creatures and spirits like no other. 

Jhin of all people would know as his father was one of the few respected martial arts masters that helped seal away harmful demons or even kill them. The people Jhin's father worked with walked around their house often enough and the memory of one person in particular washes over Jhin. A tall man with harsh features yet giving Jhin the warmest of smiles when he was but a lonely child. But that isn't what fascinated Jhin back then. It was the man's red mane. 

It is that man's face that Jhin suddenly glances upon across the guard station's big entrance hall. Even with his hair tucked away by a headscarf, the well-known red mane hidden to ensure his anonymity, Jhin knows it's him. Kusho. Better known as the Eye of the Twilight. Current master of the Kinkou order. 

Of course Zhyun's council would be desperate enough to beg a renowed order such as the Kinkou for help. And their leader no less. Curses. Jhin's thoughts are racing but not with fear like he first suspected they would. They're racing with the thought of people being this aware of him. The attention. It makes the tips of his fingers tingle with the need to create more of his works. The longing of finally creating a worthy masterpiece. 

Jhin snaps out of his thoughts when he notices something else. The man that would be Kusho is talking to two men. The two men that eyed Jhin when he was brought in, to be exact. Could it be that the guard is already suspecting him? No. There is no way that the guard that interrogated him was just putting up an act. These imbeciles would not know acting skills if they stabbed them in the heart.

The urge to find out more dominates Jhin's every thought and he knows best that this is bad. Very bad. Obsessing over this. With obsession comes carelessness. He needs to get out of this damned guard station. 

Right now.


	5. Scintilla

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zed ponders. Shen eats. Kusho is tired. 
> 
> Thanks for (still) reading!

The evening sun finally sets behind one of Zhyun's many mountains, but the heat is ever present. High temperatures during summer are not uncommon for Ionia and even less so for its second biggest island Zhyun. It doesn't bother Zed even though he spent most of his life in the slightly colder Navori, where the Kinkou Monastery lies. After all the most important part of his long and endearing training to become a skilled ninja was and still is to balance out everything. Even his own temperature. 

However, Zed can't help but to scoff at the thought. Truth is, he knows that there is no such thing as balance to everything. Not good and evil. Not this goddamn heat that makes sweat run down his neck. And especially not the Golden Demon's killings. But following the Kinkou's culture has been all he's known ever since he was but a forsaken child, saved up from the dirty streets by none other than the master himself. Zed is grateful and looks up to Kusho, to a degree at least. Still, he wants nothing more than Kusho's recognition and to be the man's successor. The next Eye of Twilight. 

But until then it will still be years of training and honing both his body and mind. All to surpass Shen.

For now Zed is stuck with lowly tasks though. Such as his current one. Which is picking up the group's dinner from a restaurant. Fair enough, he pulled the smaller stick out of two and it might as well had been Shen, but as always Zed's luck is simply non-existent. A sigh leaves him as he enters the inn that the group of three are currently using as their base of operations. _The Waiting Butterfly_ , as the inn is called, is big and oddly luxurious, something that Zed hasn't experienced in his life yet. But he guesses that Zhyun's council is too grateful for Kusho's services to offer lowly accommodation.

Finally back at one of the several rooms they were given, Zed knocks on the door. Twice. A pause. Then once. Then twice again. A code to let the others know it's him. After all, everyone is supposed to think that the three Kinkou are mere merchants. Shen finally opens up. A little smirk plays around the corners of his lips when he spots the bag of food in Zed's hand. "That is not what I ordered," he jests.

Zed just rolls his eyes and pushes him back inside. "Be quiet or I will dump your soup over your head," he retorts and steps into the room. 

The entrance area of their arrangement of rooms is littered with shoes and before Zed steps completely inside, he removes his. Entering the main area, he once again admires the flooring. Tatami mats, thick and beautifully woven. Small windows but a fair amount of them point towards the city and a far away mountain. Soft blossoms of red and blue color in a vase decorate a low table standing in the middle of the room, a couple of sitting cushions around it. 

Almost carelessly Zed drops the bag containing everyone's dinner on that table. Shen mumbles something next to him as he sits down and unpacks the bag's contents, but Zed chooses to ignore it. He's more interested in what Kusho is working on. Without a word he heads through the open wooden translucent sliding doors that separate the living room from the room where the three gather all of their information. 

Kusho's hazel eyes look up from the low desk he's sitting on. Files and written notes are scattered on it. Despite the mess, a warm smile paints over Kusho's features. "Welcome back, Zed," he says and shuffles slightly on his sitting cushion. Zed gives his master a swift but acknowledging nod and as always wonders how Kusho's smile can be so warm despite his lack of emotion. But those are just the ways of the Eye of Twilight, something Zed will still have to learn. 

"Have you and Shen found out anything new with the files the city guard provided us?" Zed asks while leaning against the wall that holds the sliding door. 

Not even Kusho can keep the frustrated sigh that leaves his lips concealed. "I'm afraid not," he answers. "You and Shen will have to ask around, see if anyone has seen or heard unusual things. I am quite aware that both of you imagined different things when I spoke of your first missions, but-"

"- but observation to ascertain strategic points of interest is key to every step during a mission. Yes, I know that by now, master," Zed interrupts and earns a disapproving frown from Kusho. To no surprise. "I apologize for cutting of your words. It wasn't my intention to offend you and while I understand the importance of these kind of lessons, this endless information gathering is becoming ... quite tiresome." 

Shen suddenly appears next to Zed. "I mush-" he begins, but is interrupted by his own slurping and then coughing. Zed looks to his side and sees the cause of his supposed brother's disgusting noises. He scrunches up his nose. The bowl of soup that is Shen's is already out of the bag and in his greedy fingers. Sometimes he wonders if Shen and master Kusho really are of the same blood. "I must agree with Zed. To some extent, at least. I do not mind gathering information, but most of the people that had to do with the Golden Demon are either in too big of a shock, still, or don't know much. Some even fear to talk about it at all, frightened they could be next if they spill a wrong word."

"I value your opinion, my son. But your manners are lacking," Kusho remarks. "Show some decency and bring us our food, too. And then we shall see what we can do." 

Chuckling at Shen from the side, Zed moves to sit down across of Kusho on the low but wide table. His fingers move the seemingly countless files aside to find a map below them. On it, the places where the demon has killed have been marked. Kusho's handwriting is on several papers that are attached to the map, describing in great detail how many corpses and in what condition were found on each location. 

Zhyun seems to be the main island of the demon's _hunting grounds_ , though some neighbouring islands and even Navori have fallen victim as well. The patterns make no sense, however. The Golden Demon never hunts twice at the same spot although it's a common behavior for demons and other creatures. It has never left any trace of what it could be or from where it came. The only thing it leaves are the bodies, of course. But the way they are mutilated - the demon's tools could be claws, fangs, swords, really anything. 

Zed groans. He cannot count on both of his hands and feet anymore how often he's looked at this damned map and has gotten nothing out of it. Over two and a half years and all the Kinkou did was take one step closer and two steps back. When Kusho told him stories of demon hunts and the thrill they bring, Zed didn't think he'd be sitting in countless of inn rooms, following the Golden Demon's bloody footsteps while desperately grasping for any information.

A soft _thud_ next to Zed makes him snap out of his frustrated thoughts. Shen brought him his still warm grilled eel with a side portion of rice and vegetables, while Kusho, just like his son, went for a savory noodle soup. How these two could eat a steaming hot soup such as this during this abominable heat is beyond Zed. 

With a low and gleeful grin, however, he turns to Shen. "That is not what I ordered," he repeats what Shen said earlier. The other's indifference, however, triumphs over Zed once more. Instead of being annoyed by the comment he just gives Zed a soft smile while sitting down next to him. All Zed is left to do is roll his eyes and dig in. 

The three Kinkou eat for a few minutes and in complete and utter silence. Zed finishes first, as always. Ever the impatient one, he puts his plate, bowl and chopsticks next to him on the floor and grabs the files that Kusho put aside before eating. "Patience is a virtue, my young pupil," Kusho says from across him, still enjoying his soup. His voice is soft though, so Zed doesn't give the comment much thought. 

What he gives thought though is the file in his hands. He opens it and is presented to a list of names and places. "Who are these people?"

"Traveling theater members. The one that found the latest ... victims," Shen quickly answers as he puts his empty bowl away as well. He scooches closer and reads the names out loud. "Xian Ran, Zha Li, Hao Bei Kiang, Otsu Taoye, Kai Shi, Khada Jhin, Jun-"

"Wait," Zed suddenly interrupts Shen and reads the last name himself. His Ionian is rarely used, but those two tiny words he can easily recall. "Khada Jhin?" He can't hold back the snort. "Why would one name their child _Golden Excellence_? That seems quite ... fancy. Or rather, ridiculous." 

Shen simply shrugs. Kusho on the other hand throws the still amused Zed a slight glare. "Maybe you should be the one talking to the first half of the list if you find them so amusing, Zed. And Shen takes the other half."

An objection lies on the tip of Zed's tongue and he opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. For once his mind rules over his heart and he remembers one of Kusho's many sayings. That _life is not always how you wish it would be_. So Zed just nods and watches as Shen does, too. But Zed also resents himself for obeying and is frustrated over Kusho's set ways. Obedience and acceptance and especially dispassion are all part of being the Eye of Twilight and yet ... it feels wrong. 

"Very well," Kusho continues and motions for Zed to hand him the file back, which he does. "As always we cannot just waltz into every person's home and question them. It must happen under our disguise. The guardsmen told me that there is an establishment bearing the name _The Blooming Sea Lotus_ that quite a few people in Xuhua frequent. You should look there first. Of course you may also visit other places. But you should know as much by now. I will give the two of you one week to gather information. Use it wisely." 

Both Shen and Zed agree with a silent nod once more.


	6. Acquaintances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Jhin voice] HOW LOVELY

It's been a little over three days that Kusho gave both Zed and Shen the task of asking the people on the theatre's list about the murders. As per usual, this proved to be quite the pointless hassle. Zed feels like he's had even less success than all those other times before. Of the theatre people he found, most were too scared or traumatized to talk. And those that were willing to speak up didn't even see the bodies. Or a demon. Or anything useful, really. 

The one glimmer of hope is that Zed is not at his wit's end yet. He recalls the establishment Kusho mentioned. _The Blooming Sea Lotus_. He guesses he could ask about the remaining people on his list there. And probably end up with another dead end or useless lead. He groans at the thought of yet another disappointment, but he guesses this is better than sitting on his behind and wallowing in self-pity. 

It's late afternoon when Zed makes his way through the quite busy streets of Xuhua. The inn keeper told him that the fastest way to _The Blooming Sea Lotus_ was through the market place and although Zed hates crowds, he hates wasting time even more. Shouting merchants and their customers are the majority of sounds, although there are a couple of street musicians trying their best to make some extra coin as well. The colorful booths and lively crowds surrounding them are almost enough to make Zed forget the grim murders outside of the city not even a week ago. Almost. 

Refusing a couple of merchants that were trying to get his attention with all sorts of wares, Zed finally reaches his destiny. From the outside, the establishment is quite big, at least for Ionian standards. A solid two story building, painted in green with a faded red rooftop. A sign with lotus blossoms are above the two big wooden doors that act as entrance. One of the doors is wide open, inviting people inside. With an audible sigh and reluctantly, Zed accepts the invitation. 

He is greeted by a large and rectangular carpet that depicts lotuses as well. It looks expensive and over the top. Great. The natural light shining in through generous windows as well as lanterns on the ceiling provide lighting, while wooden square tables and matching chairs provide space to sit. Nothing out of the ordinary for an Ionian establishment that offers food. Until Zed's eyes follow the carpet. And he spots a bar. 

While bars are not a rarity in Ionia anymore, Zed has to admit that he's never seen a restaurant and a bar put together in one building. Chairs are placed in front of the counter and Zed guesses sitting down there is as good of a place as any. He makes his way past several tables, his watchful eyes scanning the room for anything - or anyone - suspicious. 

But nothing catches his attention. Almost disappointed but not surprised he sits down on one of the high stools standing in front of the counter. Before he can form another thought, a woman appears in front of him. "Well, look at you. A real sunshine. What can I get you, sunny?" she says, her voice husky and rough. Taken back by the speed of her words, Zed takes a second or two to take a closer look at her and process her question. 

A few wrinkles grace her round face and Zed takes a wild guess that she's in her early thirties. Two moles are under her left eye, the gray pupils watching Zed with unshared attention. Her blonde hair is bound into a neat ponytail, although a few loose strands frame her face to divert from its chubby nature. She's small but her body is somewhat curvy, with narrow hips. Whoever she might be, her features definitely don't seem Ionian. 

"Uh," Zed suddenly stammers, "One water, please." 

"Sunny, I'll gladly give you that water. But your face don't look like water'll do the trick." 

A light snort from Zed's side. "You might be right with that, lady. One Umeshu then, please." 

With a wide grin the woman turns around to the alcohol bottles decorating a wide and high shelf behind the counter and gets to work. A minute or two pass before Zed finds his drink served in front of him. His right hand immediately reaches around the small glass. "Never seen you here before. Who're you?" 

"Zed. May I ask about your name?"

"Hah, so polite. I'm Rhuina. My old man owns this place." 

"Oh? Could you tell me how this came to be then? I mean, I am by far no expert but seeing a bar and a restaurant combined is not exactly common for Ionian standards." 

"Sure isn't," Rhuina says and leans onto the counter. "You see, my grandparents came up with this place. Both long gone now. Grandpa was from Bilgewater, grandma was from Ionia. Don't know if you know, sunny, but people from Bilgewater really know their way 'round making some mean alcohol. So my grandparents wanted to combine their knowledge of drinks and food and built all o' this. That's where the name comes from, too. After all, lotuses are very popular in Ionia. And the sea and Bilgewater go hand in hand, right?" A silly little laughter leaves her and the corners of Zed's mouth curl upwards just the tiniest bit. 

"My father is their son and my mom was from Bilgewater. But seeing how you eyed me, you might have guessed as much. Either way, good idea this little shack, huh?" Rhuina asks and affectionately pats the wooden counter under her. Zed agrees with a silent nod while taking a sip of his drink. "What about you? Never seen you 'round here. And trust me, I know and remember every face."

"My father is a traveling merchant. Business brought us here." 

"Is your father as good looking as you are, hm?"

A chuckle from Zed. He's not sure whether it's this woman's terrible sense of humor or her straightforward attitude, but he likes her. "I am afraid not. So, Miss Rhuina, have you been to Bilgewater?" 

"Ah, no. I'm not sure I want to either. What Ionia has in terms of demons and the like, Bilgewater has in sea monsters and whatnot. Then again I suppose with shite like the Golden Demon on the loose, these streets aren't too safe either." 

And thus, Zed finds a chance to dig deeper. "The what now?" And a chance to play dumb.

Rhuina stands up straight, her hands against her narrow hips. She gives Zed a questioning yet serious look. "You really aren't from here, I suppose. A heinous demon haunts this part of Ionia. Luckily I haven't come in contact with it or ... whatever it does to people. But a traveling theatre that has its base here in Xuhua found the demon's latest prey just a few days ago. Terrible. Slaughtered a whole family." 

"Have you heard from anything from the theatre's people?" 

Slowly but certainly Rhuina shakes her head. "Apparently the corpses they found were so disturbing that some of 'em people don't dare to leave their houses anymore. The ones that still go out just refuse to talk about it. And for once, I won't be the one digging deeper. Too grim, I betcha." 

Zed's expressions darkens. He takes another swig from his drink, his thoughts running. Maybe she's right. What him, Shen and Kusho have done so far hasn't helped the people of Zhyun at all. Rather the opposite. After all they went through the villages and cities on the demon's way and did nothing but bring back memories that were better left alone. 

Not even Zed wants to think of the images of carnage and murder he's seen in the past years. And unlike the common folk, he's been prepared for this for over ten years. Downing the rest of his drink, he can't help but groan. 

"Why is it that you asked for the theatre's people, sunny?" Rhuina's voice suddenly rings in Zed's ears and brings him back to reality. 

Before he answers, he motions for her to pour him another Umeshu. She happily obliges. Time enough to think of a lie. "I mentioned that my father is a merchant, yes? He has been holding onto wares for a traveling theatre, but none of the people he made the deal with showed up at the meeting spot." 

"Aw, really?" Rhuina says before placing Zed's refilled glass back in front of him. "Come to think of it, I might be able to help your old man out with that. Wait here. I mean, you should wait either way since you still have to pay up." 

With a questioning look painted across his face, Zed's eyes follow Rhuina as she walks around the counter. He loses track of her as she disappears into the sets of tables and the people occupying it. The business really is going well here, huh? And although a part of Zed wonders where and with what purpose she might have gone off to, he can't help but to rub his eyes before pinching the bridge of his nose. 

No new information or anything has come out of this - again - and all Zed has managed to do is get mildly intoxicated. Kusho will be proud. So very proud.

Just before his thoughts get to an even darker place, a hand appears on Zed's shoulders. He looks over his shoulders and at Rhuina's round features that wear a wide smile. "Found someone that might be able to help you," she says and steps aside to present the person she's so excited about. 

Just when Zed thought his day could not get any worse, his eyes widen. In front of him and next to Rhuina is a face he has seen before. Long and slender. High cheekbones. Sharp blue eyes. The man from the guard station. Unconsciously, Zed prays to whatever Ionian gods there are that the man doesn't remember Zed's mindless staring from a few days back. "Eh," the Kinkou stutters lamely and quickly gets up from his barstool. With both of them standing only inches apart now Zed realizes that, despite the man's height, it is actually Zed that is just the tiniest bit taller. "H-Hello. I mean, a pleasure to meet you."

And then it's there. The man's thin lips curl into a subtle yet pleasant smile, captivating enough for the hairs on Zed's neck to stand on end. A light bow of his head follows, chestnut hair falling forward. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance as well. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Khada Jhin." Golden Excellence. A few days ago that name elicited laughter from Zed. But now, spoken from a dulcet voice that is so melodic and almost lyrical, it's like poetry. But - Wait - that means this man is part of the traveling theatre. "Excuse me. I believe you have yet to tell me your name." 

"Zed." 

"Zed," Jhin repeats. "Wonderful."


	7. Weakness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Zed voice] why me 
> 
> thanks to everyone who's still reading or reads this :0

At times, Jhin finds it hard to find the right expressions in the repertoire of his acting skills. He has to though, since his whole existence outside of his art is an act. It often creates a predicament with his real mood and intentions - just like right now. Upholding the soft little curl of his lips into a pleasant smile is a hard task when a woman as foolish as Rhuina stands in front of him. What were that imbecile's thoughts when she dragged Jhin to meet this man? 

This man - Jhin remembers his face from the guard station. Staring at him with his piercing gaze. One of two men that talked to the Eye of Twilight, Kusho, of all people. Yes, Jhin remembers his face. Because Jhin remembers the face of every person he sees, because they are his canvas. They are his to make beautiful. 

"So," comes from next to Jhin. His attention shifts to Kusho's apprentice. No, Zed. Jhin can't let the name _Kusho_ or anything regarding him slip past his lips. "You were - are, I am unsure, part of the traveling theatre that were supposed to perform here in Xuhua a couple of days ago?" 

Forcing himself to give a polite nod of his head, Jhin confirms Zed's words. "I do not mean to be rude, but may I ask what the matter happens to be? I came here for my usual order and not to be introduced to you. Or to be questioned by you." 

A little gasp comes from Rhuina. "Oh gods, I absolutely forgot to tell you why I needed you here and just dragged you off your arse and with me," she babbles. Beneath his calm exterior, Jhin feels the rising urge to slice this woman's throat. He has never felt the need for that before as her features and body are far too crude to make due for a _masterpiece_. With a deep breath he tries to calm himself down. Come to think of it, Rhuina has always proved to be of some use, at least. The gossip and the information she gathers are great sources for Jhin to plan ... his performances after all.

"I am a merchant's son," Zed interrupts both Rhuina's words and Jhin's thoughts. "My father, my brother and I traveled here to sell and trade costumes and other things I am not quite sure of to your theatre. Would you happen to know anything about that?" 

Merchants, hm? What a droll and terrible lie but Jhin supposes that it is a good cover for Kusho and his two henchman to get around. Although - he can't help but to wonder if Zed really is Kusho's son. "Ah, I see," Jhin finally answers. "Why don't we take a seat? I would be glad to be off assistance to you and your father for that matter, but I came here for a meal in the first place." 

"O-Oh. Of course." 

"Rhuina, I would like the usual. Anything for you, my dear?" Zed blinks, once, twice, before shaking his head. "Very well. Follow me, please."

They make their way past the bar and a couple of desk until they reach the table Jhin was sitting at earlier - the fourth row, of course. As soon as they sit down Jhin allows himself to study Zed's face, who is busy looking around. His hair is not very remarkable, black and cut short like every Ionian man seems to wear it. Zed's face is the opposite though, the rough edges around his jaw and chin of great interest to Jhin's keen eyes. 

Those eyes travel over Zed's sharp and somewhat thick nose, over his thin lips and over the scar interrupting the man's right and full eyebrow. Another scar is right under Zed's left eye, almost reaching to his nose. And although the asymmetry in Zed's face should be what delights Jhin, it isn't. Instead he feels the tips of his fingers tingle when his blue eyes meet Zed's amber eyes. In the room's dim light their color almost seems like a deadly red that matches the color of blood and the setting sun outside. 

Jhin swallows. Art is such a cruel little thing. Bringing him such a wonderful canvas but in the hands of Kusho, the man that could make his curtain fall. A risk Jhin isn't willing to take. Not yet. 

"Now that we have our privacy, if one could call an overfilled restaurant that, what would you like to know?" Jhin asks, trying to distract himself from the vision of carnage settling in his head. 

"Well, did you know anything about the wares my father intended to deliver?" Zed asks. 

Jhin contemplates. The soft though barely noticeable shaking in Zed's voice makes it plain obvious that this part of his _story_ seems to be a lie, too. Furthermore, Jhin highly doubts that Kusho had the time during all of the demon's murders to set up a genuine delivery simply to let his cover seem more credible. And Jhin usually knows about all of the deliveries and contracts. Not of this one though. So for once, the truth seems to be appropriate.

"I did not know of it, I must admit," Jhin finally answers and leans back in his chair, crossing his legs. "I usually do since I am a stagehand and thus have to know of new supplies and even costumes arriving. Maybe the theatre's director who knows about every little order and detail failed to mention it to me." 

"I-I see," Zed stutters. "How is it that you are behind the scenes though?" 

"Why should I not be?" 

A more than audible swallow leaves Zed. He scratches the back of his neck and opens his mouth. Before he can say anything, a young woman steps in front of their table though. In her hands and balanced on her arms are multiple steaming plates and bowls. "The usual for you, Jhin," she muses with a wide smile gracing her full cheeks. 

She places a large plate with ten dumplings and chopstick on the table and Jhin utters a quick _thank you_ before she makes her way to the next desk. Jhin takes the chopsticks and grabs one of the steaming dumplings. They are hot against his tongue and lips, almost too hot, but the tender dough outside and the fatty meat inside make the little burn tickling Jhin's tongue worth it. The counting starts. _One_. 

When he looks up from the plate, Zed's eyes avert their gaze from him. Interesting. "So, my dear Zed, answer me already. Why should I not be behind the scenes?" Another dumpling. _Two_.

"You seem to me like you belong on the stage," Zed answers. 

_Three_. Jhin chuckles shortly after he swallows down the dumpling. "I must disagree. I do not possess the brashness or even the looks to be an actor. Thus, the stage would not be a kind place for me. The crowd wants to be enchanted by beauty and grace, which I am afraid I do not possess." A quick movement of Jhin's wrist, chopsticks trapping another dumpling between them. _Four_. Truly, a delight. "But I digress. I am, after all, not what you came here for." 

Jhin laughs inwardly at the irony. After all he is, in fact, what Zed came here for. The _Golden Demon_ , right in front of his nose. A divine play. 

"I think you give yourself to little credit," Zed suddenly blurts out, no shaking in his voice. There's a passionate spark in his amber eyes and it infects Jhin. A shiver runs over his spine. "Obviously we just met. But. Both your poise and looks are worthier of the stage than any actor I have seen before. Rotting away behind the stage seems to be a waste for someone such as yourself." As if noticing his words just now, Zed blinks once. He clears his throat. "But you are correct. We digress."

 _One_. 

The fourth plus one more dumpling land in Jhin's mouth. But it is not the primary reason why no words are leaving his mouth. He purses his lips slightly, mouth resting on the edge of turning into heinous grin that he suppresses before it paints over his features. Zed's words. His attitude. The way he can barely lie and even less so act. 

Jhin knows. Knows the way Zed's voice stutters when he talks to him. Knows the way Zed speaks of Jhin's body. Knows the way Zed's gaze lingers on Jhin for a second too long when he thinks Jhin is not paying attention. Knows the way Zed averts his eyes when Jhin looks back at him, like a child who got caught with its greedy little fingers in the cookie jar. 

_Two_. Jhin knows. 

Attraction, is it not? Zed feels attraction towards him. After only seeing him twice. Three.

It makes Jhin's skin crawl with disgust. How anyone could be attracted to his symmetrical face is and will always be beyond him. However, the thought of wrapping Zed around his little finger overcomes and even delights Jhin. How useful it would be to have one of Kusho's apprentices at his wim. The information on how close his pursuers are on finding out who the Golden Demon is - Jhin could tickle it out of Zed with a simple flutter of his eyes, could manipulate Kusho's path, could point them towards a false demon. So many possibilities. 

A masterful play. The thought of it brings Jhin so much joy that it terrifies him. 

And in his mind, he must admit that some people are of use to him even before their death.

 _Four_.


End file.
